This Christmas
by RubyFiamma
Summary: [8059] [Fluff] [Prompt Fic] Gokudera hates the holidays but he's supposed to get something for a stupid baseball idiot against his will (it's only because the Tenth is making him do it). The only problem is that he's broke.


**Pairing : ** Yamamoto Takeshi/Gokudera Hayato {8059}

**Fandom : **Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

**Rating : **T and up

**Warnings : **Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill. Fluff, Kissing, Established Relationship, Non-Explicit Sexual Suggestions, Fluff and Humor, Gokudera is a dork, Yamamoto is a bigger dork, 8059, Excessive Use of Brackets and Hyphens Sorry

**Summary : **Gokudera hates the holidays but he's supposed to get something for a stupid baseball idiot against his will (it's only because the Tenth is _making_ him do it). The only problem is that he's broke.

**Word Count : **3423

**Notes : {For the Prompt,** tumbr**}**

Anonymous writes :

Please write a really cute fluff of 8059 where Gokudera doesn't know what to get yamamoto and he just kinda sits there like "shit."Then he gets the PERFECT idea of trying to make him something, but then he gets super embarrassed and tries to hid it because he doesn't think it's good, but Yamamoto doesn't quit bugging, and when he says no, yamamoto comes up with a bet,and knowing Gokudera he CANT resist beating this baseball freak, and Yamamoto ends up winning, and totally freaks out and likes it

Sorry this took so long, ugh. It was supposed to be in time for Christmas but ah well, I'm sure it's still Christmas out there somewhere… Maybe? I also don't know how to write drabbles. I'm like, physically incapable of doing it.

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><p><strong>This Christmas<strong>

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><p>Gokudera has never liked the holidays. He doesn't like the cold or the snow, he definitely doesn't like the carolers and he sure as <em>hell <em>doesn't like everyone's cheery fucking attitudes.

He hasn't celebrated Christmas since he was seven years old; with the exception of ages fourteen, fifteen and sixteen. Since moving to Japan, he's met some pretty amazing people (and by people, he means the Tenth) and it kind of helps nudge him into the Christmas spirit. Reluctantly.

_This _Christmas is different though. He's always gotten the Tenth a little something, made sure he put away a little bit of cash or bought early on in the year. He's never felt obligated to give anyone else anything, nor has he ever had the _want__._ But, this year he's kind-of-sort-of-supposed-to-be-maybe-dating the baseball idiot (and has been since February of last year — which is an entirely different story that Gokudera does _not _want to get into) and well, the Tenth told him at Christmas time, if he wasn't getting his family anything (in which the Tenth doesn't blame him for _not _wanting to associate himself with his hag of a sister or that pervert doctor) than he should at least get something for _someone _he _cares _about.

Gokudera's not all that surprised that the Tenth may-or-may-not know about his and Yamamoto's relationship. Gokudera's not trying to keep it a secret from his boss, it's just that he doesn't like revealing anything about his personal life. Yamamoto is far different. He would happily tell the entire world if Gokudera would let him, but he knows that Gokudera would be right there waiting with Yamamoto-Special-Edition C4 for that joyous occasion.

In any case, Gokudera knows the Tenth is right. He's seen that his boss has picked out something nice for Sasagawa but it makes Gokudera stressed to even think about displaying such niceties. Niceties meant you cared, meaning you cared meant you were vulnerable and being vulnerable meant getting blindsided when in came the hurt— betrayal — whatever. He didn't like it.

That was that and he didn'nt try too hard to think about it. But as Christmas crept closer, Gokudera dwelled more and more on getting something for Yamamoto — just for principle's sake. And because you know, the Tenth. There was just one problem. He was utterly broke.

He had spent the month's allowance on new supplies for his dynamite, a carton of smokes and the Tenth's Christmas present. A really awesome hoodie that he knew the Tenth would love because he liked to be comfortable but it screamed Gokudera's style in every other way. It wasn't such a bad thing for Gokudera to want to live vicariously through his boss via the clothing he couldn't afford for himself. Right?

With two days left before Christmas break, Gokudera rocks on the back of his chair in his shop class, chewing on the cap of his pen while calculating every possible outcome of having to tell Yamamoto he didn't get him anything. He knew that the other boy wouldn't mind, probably laugh it off with a cheery _"__Haha__, __that's __okay__, __Gokudera__! __I __still __got __something __for __you__!"_ and even if he seemed like he was fine, the guilt would lay heavy on Gokudera's conscience until the following Christmas and frankly he had a lot of other, more important things to worry about during that time.

"Shit," he mutters aloud, not really remembering he's still in class.

The teacher looks up at him from his position at one of the machine and leers. Gokudera shrugs in apology, rather crudely, and continues to rack his brain for possible solutions when it hits him. He's made his own shit in here before (during the metal and mechanics half of shop class, didn't really care too much for woodwork), like chains for his wallet or rings. Two days would be more than enough time to _make _something for Yamamoto. He's heard somewhere homemade gifts are more special because of the sentimental value they hold anyway.

Gokudera snorts out loud at the thought. _Who're we kidding here?_ Gokudera's just doing it because he's fucking broke and the Tenth will probably be disappointed in him if he doesn't get Yamamoto anything. And maybe Yamamoto might be. Just a little bit.

Smiling unbeknownst to himself, Gokudera begins working out a rough sketch of the perfect gift.

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><p>Gokudera glares at the hunk of metal in his palm, not satisfied with the end result at <em>all<em>_. _It's a piece of junk, not even worth a penny and he's not saying Yamamoto's worth more but he does have a shred of pride stored somewhere and he's sure as hell not giving this ugly piece of trash to anyone.

Except, he can feel heat strike across his cheeks when he thinks of the detail he put into it, how long it took him to etch the fine stitching encircling the band and the look on Yamamoto's face when he actually realises what it's supposed to be. Or better yet when he doesn't know what it is looks completely dumbfounded. But then again, that might be kind of insulting. Either way, when he thinks about how much work he's put into the ring (even calculating the right ring size for each finger) it really is a labour of love. For the ring. Not for the other thing. _Him__._

Anyways, it's too late to change anything and it's too late (and he's too poor) to scrounge up enough yen to buy him a carton of milk from the convenience store.

Frowning, he chucks the ring into the small wooden box he also made — because he had the time, not because he actually _intended _to make something for the ring to fit inside to make it look more presentable— just as a sharp knock sounds at his apartment door. He quickly stuffs the box inside in his jeans pocket and heads to the door, unlocking the completely necessary three deadbolts before opening it.

Yamamoto stands in his doorway, cheeks blushed pink from cold. There's melting snow soaking through his scarf and jacket and his hands are shoved into his pockets. He's smiling, hard and honest and the light in his hazel eyes dance around like a warm, flickering flame. If — _if _Gokudera's being truthful with himself, seeing Yamamoto happy like this over some stupid holiday is enough to soften his mood.

"Merry Christmas, Gokudera!" Yamamoto says and his grin gets wider and Gokudera wonders how his face doesn't hurt with the motion.

"Yeah, Merry Christmas," he mutters and opens the door wider to make room for Yamamoto to shuffle his way inside. He closes the door behind the other and proceeds to lock the deadbolts and then there's a soft tap on his shoulder. He turns and Yamamoto leans forward, lifting an arm above their heads.

"Mistletoe!" he exclaims gleefully and Gokudera makes the mistake of looking up and sees the sprig of white and green above him. He groans and rolls his eyes but he leans forward to meet Yamamoto's mouth with his lips are cold in comparison to Gokudera's warm ones and the mingling heat that they create is something Gokudera can't help but savour. He doesn't settle for something chaste, instead he wraps his arms around Yamamoto's neck and sifts his fingers through Yamamoto's damp hair. Gokudera pushes his tongue through and sweeps the roof of Yamamoto's mouth and along his teeth. He can tell Yamamoto doesn't expect it by the way he mewls surprise against Gokudera's lips. He smiles behind the kiss, just enough for himself to realise he's doing it and lets go, turning away from Yamamoto before he can see the telltale signs of happiness written across Gokudera's features.

"Wow," Yamamoto breathes, sliding his tongue over his spit sheen lips like he can still taste Gokudera. "Mistletoe, huh."

"Shut up," Gokudera says but it lacks any barbs for it to be convincing.

Yamamoto laughs as he makes his way into the kitchen with Gokudera in tow, and takes off his jacket, hanging it on the back of one of Gokudera's bar stools that's stationed at the high top bar table Gokudera has in the corner of the room.

"My dad says dinner will be ready at four," Yamamoto states as Gokudera puts on the kettle. He feels Yamamoto's arms slip around his waist and the weight of Yamamoto's chin on his shoulder. "So we have some time," he says suggestively.

Gokudera scoffs and bumps Yamamoto's chin off his shoulder so that he can move into the living room. "Pervert."

"Maybe," Yamamoto hums darkly and Gokudera doesn't have to look at him to know the sly and impish expression he's wearing right now.

He takes a seat on the sofa, cross legged and expects Yamamoto to follow and instead of sitting like a _normal_ person, Yamamoto flops on the furniture and sprawls across his lap.

"Hey." Yamamoto looks up and a goofy grin splays his lips.

Gokudera has to slap a hand over his face to hide his own grin, a reaction of Yamamoto's infectious stupidity, and huffs. "Idiot."

"Well," Yamamoto begins, muffled. Gokudera feels the wet of his lips against his palm as he kisses it and moves it from his face. "I got you something. Does that make me an idiot?"

"Yes," Gokudera says immediately. Yamamoto laughs and props himself up on an elbow, twisting so he's half lying on his stomach, still stretched out in Gokudera's lap.

"Hold on a sec," he says and digs around in his pocket, concentration knitting his brows together and Gokudera sees the peek of pink tongue through Yamamoto's lips and the expression is enough to make him snicker.

"Here!" Yamamoto's face lights up and he pulls a small box from his pocket and drops it in Gokudera's lap. It's wrapped in brightly coloured paper, no bigger than the dip of Gokudera's palm. "It's not much," he says and Gokudera can hear his tone shift a little with concern. "But I thought of you when I saw it, so… I hope you like it!"

Gokudera's sure whatever it is, he's going to like it because Yamamoto may an be an idiot, but he's occasionally thoughtful if anything. Suddenly Gokudera couldn't feel any more inadequate than he does because at least Yamamoto _thought _of him while Gokudera's gift was nothing but a shotty last ditch attempt at something vague and not at all something Yamamoto would probably like, and if anything it was more for his benefit so that the Tenth wouldn't be upset with him. He can feel the sourness in his frown and bitterness on the tip of his tongue.

Instead of opening his gift, Gokudera sets it aside and cards his hand through Yamamoto's hair. A distraction is good, Yamamoto won't be able to resist one and hopefully he'll forget about this stupid Christmas gift exchange.

Yamamoto sighs contently and leans in to the touch, stretching his arms completely over Gokudera's lap and Gokudera watches the other boy's wrist bump the box in his pocket. Gokudera's stomach lurches and his heart flutters.

"Hey, what's that?" Yamamoto asks, curiously feeling around the box. Gokudera swats his hand away and a noncommittal growl rumbles in his throat.

"Is that a box in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" The grin flashes wide and even though Yamamoto shouldn't be stupid enough to know that it isn't what he thinks it is, his eyes go dark and the grin he wears is his own form of malice.

Gokudera tries hard not to smile because Yamamoto is _such an adora— stupid dork _and he isn't supposed to be_. _What comes out is a snort. "Oh my god, that was so lame."

He drags Yamamoto's head up when he laughs, he ducks his own and slots their mouths together in an opened mouth kiss. No time for small, patient kisses, and he swallows the laughter. Gokudera's banking on Yamamoto getting too involved with the task at hand rather than the horribly embarrassing gift in his jeans pocket. Thankfully Yamamoto _is _an idiot and therefore easy to distract with sex.

Except it doesn't work this time, and Gokudera's forgotten how one track minded Yamamoto can be and also how _persistent_ he can be.

"Really," he says with an airy chuckle against Gokudera's lips. "What's in your pocket?"

"Cigarettes. Shut up and kiss me," Gokudera murmurs. He kisses Yamamoto again, it's easy when they're lips are mere millimeters apart.

Those," Yamamoto says between kisses, "aren't cigarettes."

"It's stuff," Gokudera growls impatiently, tugging on the handful of hair he has in his hand. He's rewarded with a sharp hiss.

"It's my present, isn't it?"

Gokudera can feel Yamamoto's grin against his mouth. "God! Why do you have to be observant when it _doesn't _count for shit?" he exclaims frustratingly with a flick to Yamamoto's forehead.

Yamamoto laughs and rubs his forehead and sits up so that he's facing Gokudera. "You haven't even opened my gift yet. Are you hiding yours for me?"

Gokudera can't look him in the eye and lie to him, partially because he'd feel guilty but more so because he knows he can't keep a straight face and Yamamoto will see right through him. He turns his attention to the front door and crosses his arms. "No."

"Haha. Yes, it is," Yamamoto insists.

"No, it isn't. You don't know what you're talking about, baseball freak."

Gokudera feels Yamamoto's hand skirt across his lap and he _knows _the slow motion is to tease him; distract him — _not _so that Gokudera will swat his hand away. But, Yamamoto's advance is with no avail because Gokudera indeed, swats his hand away.

"Hm. Let's make a bet," Yamamoto says and Gokudera can hear the roughness in his voice; the coy invitation with the subtle undertone of a challenge and Gokudera would be lying if he said he wasn't the slightest bit interested. But he doesn't allow Yamamoto to bait him.

"I bet you five thousand yen that the thing in your pocket _is _my present."

Gokudera can't resist a bet, nor can he resist proving the idiot wrong. But this time it's not an easy win. It _is _Yamamoto's gift and he doesn't have money to hand over to Yamamoto either. He doesn't even care about the cash, it'd be his pride at stake here.

Gokudera cocks an eyebrow and narrows his eyes. "I'll bet you that it's just a piece of junk and that you don't have five thousand yen to give me, so I'll raise the ante to no sex for a week." See how Yamamoto likes _that__._

"Okay," agrees Yamamoto, all too quickly for Gokudera's liking.

He frowns bitterly. "Have you weighed the options? I mean it — no sex, no kissing, no touching for a week."

"Yeah, I get you." Yamamoto holds out his hand expectedly, palm turned up. "I know I'm going to win, so."

"Cocky little bastard," Gokudera grumbles and jams his hand into his jeans pocket. He pulls out the wooden box and shoves it unceremoniously under Yamamoto's nose. "Here."

He has to turn away again, he doesn't want to see the look on Yamamoto's face when he opens the box. Thankfully the kettle begins it's shrill whistle and Gokudera springs off the couch so fast that he nearly trips over his feet on his way to the kitchen. He takes the kettle off the element and reaches for the mugs on the second shelf in the cupboard closest to the stove. He feels a slight draft when his shirt rides up over his ribs and when he reaches for the second mug he feels warm fingertips slide over his bare skin. Gokudera jumps in reaction, nearly losing the mug but Yamamoto pulls him into his chest tightly and buries his face into Gokudera's hair.

Gokudera's heart is caught in his throat and it's thrumming rapidly, partly because the idiot nearly scared him to death and partly because he doesn't know what's coming next and he's nervous. _Irrationally_ nervous.

"You idiot! You almost made me drop this," Gokudera hisses but he hears the thinness of his voice. "And you lost the bet, so no touching."

"I didn't lose the bet," Yamamoto argues. "The ring, you made it, didn't you? You made it for me."

Heat strikes across Gokudera's cheeks and he tries to squirm out of Yamamoto's grasp to run away, have a smoke, blow him up or all of the above. He doesn't succeed though, Yamamoto's grip tightens around him like he's determined to keep him there and put him through this torture.

"I didn't make it for you," Gokudera growls. "Let me go, stupid baseball freak!"

"Haha, you did make it for me. What's this?" Yamamoto opens the palm of his hand and Gokudera instinctively looks down to see his failed attempt at making something decent and he's even more embarrassed that he was found out.

"I want to die," Gokudera groans. "It's a hunk of metal. A piece of shit. Toss it, I don't care."

Yamamoto chuckles and Gokudera can feel the vibration rumbling through Yamamoto's chest on his back. "Why would I wanna do that? It's perfect. That's stitching, like on a baseball, isn't it?"

Gokudera's face gets hotter by the minute and he can't wait for the earth to open him up and swallow him whole. He's _praying _for it.

He stops trying to struggle and just accepts the inevitable. "You don't have to pretend to like it," he snaps but his heart skips a beat when Yamamoto slips the metal band with the baseball stitching carved around it over his ring finger.

"I don't like it," Yamamoto whispers in his ear. "I _love _it. And I love _you_."

Gokudera stills, his breath catching in his throat. Yamamoto's never said those words, though he's implied it many times, and Gokudera doesn't understand the weight of they have on his heart but how they somehow ease unexplained tension in his shoulders. It makes him feel warm and right, but it also makes him freak out because his pulse is racing rapidly and he feels like he can't breathe and there are knots twisting and wrenching in his gut.

He doesn't say anything back, he's not ready for that yet, even if he's quite aware that the feelings he has for the other go beyond just _caring _about a family member; co-worker; friend.

He hears Yamamoto laugh but it's muted under the scattered noise of his thoughts. Gokudera is staring at the tiniest black speck on the white laminate cupboard door when he feels Yamamoto's hand on his own. He looks down and watches in silent shock as Yamamoto slips a pewter band with an elongated and warped skull welded to it (and it kind of reminds him of an alien) on his left ring finger.

"Kinda funny, huh? We got each other the same gifts. 'Cept I didn't make mine, but I really hope you like it. The instant I saw it, I thought of you." Yamamoto sounds happy, _really _happy and the Tenth once told him that all Christmas really was about was being happy with your loved ones. It makes him sort of… happy, to be the reason of someone else's joy.

"I… I l-like it," Gokudera stammers. He _does _like it, but he's still in shock from Yamamoto's confession and don't think he's let the fact that he and Yamamoto both are now wearing rings given to each other by the other on their _ring f__ingers _slip by him.

"Will you be mine this Christmas, Gokudera?" Yamamoto speaks softly, kissing the side of his head and down his neck and Gokudera finds his eyes sliding shut and his pulse beginning to slow. He relaxes into Yamamoto's embrace like he's melting and gives a short nod because he's not really paying attention to anything else but the flourish of warmth each time Yamamoto presses his lips to his skin. The ring feels solid and natural on his finger, like it's been there all along and he lets go of Yamamoto's hand in favor of reaching behind him and curling his fingers into the taller teen's hair.

Yamamoto heaves a contented sigh and he rests his chin on Gokudera's shoulder. "So… If you gave me a ring, and I gave you a ring… Does that mean like we're sorta engaged now?"

This Christmas, Yamamoto will be lucky if he makes it through to dinner alive.


End file.
